


Runt of the Litter

by Olfactory_Ventriloquism



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Smut, historical fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-07 20:12:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1912230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olfactory_Ventriloquism/pseuds/Olfactory_Ventriloquism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Visiting Caesar takes an unsuspected turn when everyone in a small village in Gaul, including Rose, has their memories changed and spontaneously develop lycanthropy. Can the Doctor reverse this before Caesar arrives and history is changed forever?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Second in my "Another Town" series of standalones based on the song of same title by Regina Spektor. This fic's line "Don't Let Me Forget"

Tyler Wolf was the runt of the litter. She, alone of the village, was unable to shift, not even when the moon rose, full and beckoning, in the night. But even without knowing that, any observer could quickly discern she was different. She kept the peace; she placated; she had even been known to back down when challenged, if she thought the fight unworthy.

 

The rest of the village couldn’t understand her behavior, so they put it down to her being the runt. It was completely uncharacteristic for any member of the _bleithed_. And though many recognized the value of someone who could mend bridges, there were those who looked down on her for this weakness.

 

She didn’t know, but it made the Doctor love her more.

 

*            

 

She pounded on the blue door with one fist, her other hand wrapped tightly around a young boy’s wrist as he struggled in vain to escape.

 

“Let me go!” he moaned pitiably as only the very small can do. Tyler held fast, continuing to pound on the most remarkable door in town, more expensive, with its blue paint, even than the pack leader’s.

 

The impressive door opened abruptly, causing Tyler to almost hit the Doctor in the chest. He caught her wrist, peering down at her with something akin to hope in his stunningly blue eyes.

 

“Doctor,” Tyler breathed, fighting down the unexplained flush that always accompanied her first sight of him.

 

“Rose,” he murmured, searching her eyes, for what, she didn’t know.

 

“Tyler, Doctor,” she chided with a grin, ignoring the disappointment that flashed across his face. “Surely, you know my name by now?”

           

He nodded tersely. “Tyler, then. What brings you here, complete with squalling child in tow?” he asked. His tone was light, but Tyler knew, somehow, it was a ruse.  

 

“I found Olric, here, after he was dared to climb the big tree on the green, despite knowing they’re not allowed.” This last was aimed accusatorially at the youngster. “And he had a pretty bad fall. He won’t admit it, but he landed on his right wrist.” She indicated the hand she wasn’t grasping which was held protectively against his stomach. “I think he might have hurt it, and I was hoping you’d take a look at him.”

 

The Doctor dropped to his haunches and inspected the wrist as best he could, despite the child’s insistence that he was fine.

 

“I don’t want _him_ to look at it,” Olric declared petulantly.

 

Tyler rolled her eyes. “So, you’d rather I tell your mum that you disobeyed her direct orders, then?” she asked acerbically. “The Doctor will have you patched up in moments.”

 

Olric eyed the Doctor warily, before holding out his arm with all the dignity of the young. “Conchobhar, you may tend to my wound.”

 

The Doctor suppressed a smirk, rising to his feet. “Let me get a few supplies. We’ll have him fixed in a mo’.” He retreated behind the blue door.

 

The moment he was gone, Olric renewed his protestations. “Why _him_ , Tyler?” he hissed softly. “He’s been here but two moons, but you’re treating him like he’s the only person you trust. Is it because he doesn’t shift, either?”

 

“Olric,” Tyler murmured gently. “I’ve known you since you were no more than a pup. I would never put you in danger. Believe me, the Doctor can be trusted.”

 

Olric’s brow furrowed. “Why do you call him that? Everyone else calls him Conchobhar.”

 

Tyler got a far-away expression on her face as she tried to pin a knowledge that went bone deep to a specific memory. While the rest of the _bleithed_ referred to him by the epithet “wolf lover”, Tyler had called him by a different title from the day he arrived at the village. Actually, Tyler wasn’t sure why everyone else called him Conchobhar, either. “Because…that’s who he is.”

 

 The Doctor reappeared a moment later, blinking rapidly and avoiding Tyler’s curious gaze. He gave Olric a vile-looking concoction and instructed the boy to drink it all. With the look of distaste not yet passed from the boy’s face, the Doctor had firmly splinted Olric’s arm, his wrist immobile.

 

“Now,” the Doctor said sternly. “Don’t use this arm for a day, and no climbing trees for a week.”

 

“But Conchobhar-“

 

“A week.” Tyler repeated, in a tone that brooked no argument. She looked up at the Doctor with a small smile. “Thank you. I know he’s a pain to deal with.”

 

“He’s hardly the worst one you’ve brought me, Rose,” the Doctor said, with a fond smile, willing her to remember Adam, but unsurprised when she merely responded with:

 

“Tyler, Doctor. I’m not this Rose you speak of.” Her voice was gentle. She never wished to cause him pain.

 

“Oh, but you are,” he assured her, his voice nearly breaking.

 

Tyler just shook her head. “Good day, Doctor.”

 

“Good day, Rose.”

 

With a final backwards glance, Tyler lead Olric, who was already much more exuberant since the pain in his wrist had nearly vanished, away. The blue door clicked closed behind them.

 

*

 

The Doctor watched until she was out of sight, silently begging her to turn around, to come back to him, to remember. He closed the door when she was gone, again, and slumped against it. He stood for a moment with his head resting against the door, before whirling, without warning, to grab his medical pack and throw it angrily at the console.

 

“I hope you know this is your fault!” he yelled at the empty room. The hum of the room grew harsher, defensive. “It is! If you ‘adn’ta let her watch that drivel about Julius Caesar, we never would’ve come here!”

 

The lights flickered, and the TARDIS essentially turned her back on him, ignoring his bout of childishness. The Doctor knew he wasn’t being fair, and that just made him angrier.

 

He took a breath and tried to steady his nerves. Rose knew who he was; he’d heard her. Despite what’d been done to her, she knew him. He grasped desperately to this hope with both hands and held fast.

 

***

 

Three months earlier, Rose had picked up a nasty virus on Ferroulk IV, something that had to pass through her system naturally with limited help on his side, not something he could fix by stimulating the repair, and providing an abundance of the needed nutrients as he had with Olric’s fractured ulna. While she recovered, the TARDIS had done her best to keep Rose from going stir crazy. And thus, he found Rose late one night, curled up with an empty bowl of soup and plush duvet watching Shakespeare’s _Julius Caesar_ on the couch in the Library.

 

“You should be asleep,” he chided gently, taking the bowl from her hands and laying it on the table next to the couch. He picked up her feet and sat down, letting her legs drape across his lap.

 

“Et tu, Doctor?” she asked with a grin, the one that made him want to capture her tongue and learn how it felt against his own.

 

“He didn’t really say that, you know,” the Doctor said, ripping his eyes away from the tantalizing flash of pink. “He was an educated Roman, and educated Romans spoke Greek. According to Plutarch, his last words were “ _Kai su, teknon_?””

 

“And what’s that when it’s at home?”

 

“’And you, my son?’ Historians have wondered for eons whether or not Caesar was actually Brutus’ da’. He was known to carry on an on-again, off-again affair with Brutus’ mum.”

 

“Historians?” she prodded, her tongue peeking back out to tempt him. “You mean you, the great and powerful Doctor, haven’t checked?”

 

“Been busy, me. If I were to visit every person who conquered France, I’d never have a moment’s rest.”

 

“Yeah, but he’s Julius Caesar, he did more than that.”

 

“Tell you what, if you promise to rest, when you’re feeling better, we’ll go visit him.”

 

“I’ve done nothing but rest for the last 5 days,” Rose protested. “I can’t sleep anymore.”

 

The Doctor smiled indulgently, lifting her feet from his lap and placing them on the ground. “C’mon, then,” he ordered her, holding out his hand. “Only one cure for a disrupted sleep pattern.” When Rose took his hand, interlacing their fingers as they had so often before, the Doctor stood and pulled Rose to her feet. He led her to the kitchen and set her down in her customary seat, pulling out her favorite mug. Rose watched him intently while he worked. He danced around the kitchen, fishing ingredients out of various cupboards while Rose fiddled with the saltshaker. He heard it thud on the table when he bent over to retrieve the pan. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Rose’s face was flushed and she averted her gaze while she straightened the salt.

 

It was the matter of only a few minutes before he set a steaming mug down in front of her. An indulgent smile slowly spread across her face.

 

“Cocoa?” she asked amusedly. “Doesn’t chocolate have caffeine in it?”

 

“Trust me,” he replied with a cheeky wink.

 

Rose shrugged and took a sip, moaning in appreciation as the warm liquid spread over her tongue. The Doctor forced himself to look away from the expression of bliss on her face even as his brain supplied a dozen different ways he could put that look on her face again. His ears burned, and he stood abruptly.

 

“Let’s get you settled in bed, then,” he told her, offering his hand. As always, she took it without thinking, and as always, the warmth of her hand in his chased away the cold from his heart. 

 

After she was sitting in bed, her duvet draped over her lap and her cocoa on the nightstand next to her, the Doctor turned to leave.

 

“Don’t go,” she urged, her hand snagging the cuff of his leather jacket. “I’m not tired, yet.”

 

“You will be, soon enough,” he told her gently.

 

“But I’m not yet,” she said, surely unaware of how adorable she was when belligerent. “Stay with me?”

 

At her small pout, the Doctor heaved a sigh, knowing he was defeated. Rose patted the bed next to her invitingly. Steeling himself against temptation, the Doctor divested himself of jacket and boots, and then sat down next to her above the duvet, his legs straight out in front of him, not touching her. Rose took a sip of her cocoa and promptly curled into his side, burrowing under his arm, her knee brushing his thigh. The Doctor started reciting statistics from Jackie Robinson’s first major league game.

 

“Tell me about Julius Caesar, about where we’re going to meet him,” she ordered sweetly, her eyes already starting to drift closed as she nuzzled her head against his jumper.

 

With a contented smile, to Doctor did as he was bid.

 

***

 

The Doctor took a deep breath and glanced at the console penitently. “Sorry, Old Girl.” The lights brightened. “I’m just worried.” A claxon sounded in the depths of the ship. “Not worried enough? Well, aren’t we cryptic. Why are you so concerned, anyway? You’ve never gotten this invested in a human.” The console sparked. “What do you mean ‘what she will become?’ She doesn’t change like the others, why should she start now?” More sparks “Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ve got work to do.” Frustrated and heartsick, the Doctor stalked back towards the medbay, hoping desperately he could ascertain the source of whatever was causing his Rose to forget both him and herself. Once she was safe, he could work out what was afflicting the rest of this village.

 

*******

Tyler led young Olric back to his house, the largest house in the village. _At least on the outside_ , a nagging voice whispered from a dark corner of her mind, but Tyler brushed it aside.  As she led the young boy in, a middle aged woman, tall and broad-shouldered, with the weight of softened strength around her middle but a spine still as straight as steel stood from where she had been bent over the hearth. She brushed a few blonde strands back from where they had fallen into her eyes. When her eyes fell upon her son, they snapped with anger.

 

“Olric, what did you do to yourself? I have told you not to climb that tree at least a hundred times,” she exclaimed in a booming voice. “Well, if you’re not up to going outside, you will help me in here. Go and fetch a clean rag. Once the water is warm, you’ll have dishes to clean.”

 

Olric turned to glare up at Tyler accusatorially. “You said you wouldn’t tell!” he protested.

 

Tyler tamped down on a grin. “I never said she wouldn’t guess. Now, you’d best do as you’re told before she gets really angry and decides you need a nip.” Olric stalked off into the back room, growling under his breath. Tyler turned back to the woman whose worry was plain to see now that her son had been chastised. “Faoiltiama, your son will be fine. The Doctor has treated his wound, and says that if he keeps his arm still for a day, he will be fully healed in a week.” She laid her hand comfortingly on the woman’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. Olric will be back to causing mischief very soon.”

 

Faoiltiama smiled down at Tyler warmly. “Thank you, Tyler. I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t been here. You have been a great help since my husband took over at the last pack leader’s death. May I ask yet another favor? Amou is in the meadow gathering spring onions. Could you remind her that the men will be back from their hunt soon, and I’ll need her help butchering? I’d go myself, but if I take my eye off Olric for more than a moment, he’ll probably be jumping off the roof to see if wolves can fly.”

 

Tyler laughed cheerfully and headed out in search of the pack leader’s daughter.

 

When Tyler found Amou, she was not gathering spring onions. There was a basket full of them, lying neglected next to the girl with hair the color of the river sand in the sun, her eyes closed, fingers scratching idly in the dirt. Tyler looked down at the Amou, who was several years her junior, and her gaze was arrested by the ground, where the image of a man on fire had been etched by a finger.

 

“Amou?” Tyler asked softly, almost afraid of rousing her. The pack leader’s daughter jumped, her eyes snapping open. She looked down at her hands and spied the image of the burning man.

 

“Not again,” she wailed.

 

“Again?”

 

“I keep having these dreams of this. This burning man of woven reeds. It’s started coming to me even in the day, and I can’t stop it. I don’t know what it is, but it’s coming for us. It’s coming for all of us,” she told Rose, panic making her breath come short.

 

“Why is it coming?”

 

“I don’t know, but it’s been plaguing me for nearly three moons, now, and it’s getting stronger. Fur sprouted on the girl’s arm, and her nails sharpened into claws.

 

“Amou, calm down,” Tyler placated, rubbing soothing circles on the girl’s back. “Shifting now won’t help. We will need intellect of the man to work this out, not the strength of the wolf.”

 

Amou took several gasping breaths, and the fur receded. A haze of exhaustion took over her eyes for a few moments. Tyler watched in concern; the shift seemed to be taking more and more out of the _bleithed_ , but they didn’t notice.

 

We’ll work this out, Amou. Your father returns from the hunt soon. He’ll know what to do. Or the Doctor will,” Tyler reassured her earnestly. Amou nodded absently. “C’mon. Your mother awaits your return. She requires your help with the butchering, and she’ll be wanting those onions.

 

Wordlessly, the girl gathered her basket and stood. Tyler returned to the village, fully intending to go straight to the Doctor with this new predicament as soon as they returned.

 

That was when they stumbled upon the body.


	2. Chapter 2

 Before Tyler could say a word, Amou had shifted and torn off down the road on unsteady paws.

 

“Amou, wait!” Tyler called after the scampering wolf in vain. She knelt next to the body.

 

She knew this man; it was Skoll, the iron worker, but his body was emaciated, the muscles he’d acquired working daily, beating the heated metal into shape were all but gone, making him seem smaller in death than he had ever been in life. There were no visible wounds on the body, so it wasn’t likely that he had been attacked.

 

 _They say the Romans are demons. They can kill men in ways that no human can manage. But they always leave their mark on the body, injuries no mortal blade could create, but marks nonetheless,_ Tyler thought to herself. She picked up the basket of onions that Amou had dropped when she shifted, knowing there was no reason for them to go to waste before running towards the village, the Doctor, and safety.

 

As she reached the wooden walls that protected the village, she heard the pounding of feet, heavier than any of the _bliethed_ because of the sturdy boots she knew encased the feet. The Doctor rounded the nearest corner and pelted towards her, panic in his eyes.

 

“Rose!” he called her frantically, and Tyler couldn’t find it in herself to correct him, not when he was already so distraught. He grabbed her and wrapped her up in his arms, blocking the outside world out. For a few moments, she let him enclose her in a world where it was safe, where it was just them, and she clung to him as tightly as he clung to her. Finally, he pulled back enough to look at her, and the haunting image of Skoll’s body flooded back. “Are you okay?”

 

Tyler nodded shakily. “I’ll be fine, Doctor. It just came as a bit of a shock.” A look of distress crossed her face. “Amou ran off. I don’t know where she’s gone to. I need to tell her father.” She tried to head off towards the village square, but the Doctor held her tight.

 

“Time for that, later. Tell me what happened,” the Doctor insisted softly.

 

“It’s Skoll,” Tyler choked out. “He’s dead.” A thought struck her, and she examined the Doctor closely. “How did you know that something was wrong?”

 

The Doctor resembled a hind caught unawares by a wolf, too stunned and panicked to run. “The, uh, gods told me you needed me,” he answered after a long pause. Tyler knew he was lying, but she found she didn’t care. She had needed him, did need him, and she was just glad he was here.

 

“They were right,” she said with a small smile, letting herself get lost, for a moment, in the hope in his eyes. “But right now, I need to go tell the pack leader about Skoll.”

 

“Rose, no, let me tell them, you don’t need to do that.”

 

“Tyler, Doctor,” she told him, hoping she kept the wistfulness from her voice. It was in moments like these, when he looked at her so tenderly and wrapped her in his arms of gentle strength that she wished she could be his Rose. “And it’ll be better coming from me. They know me; they trust me. And I’m the one who found the body. You’re still new here. If you tell them one of the _bleithed_ is dead, they will suspect you. You should go back to your home. I don’t know why, but they’re beginning to be more guarded than they used to be, more prone to anger. The shift is starting to make them weak afterwards. Something’s going wrong, and they’ll turn on you if they connect you to Skoll. I need you to be safe.” Her hand found its way to his smooth cheek in a gentle caress. “So go home, Doctor. I’ll try to convince them to ask for your help, but you need to let me handle this.”

 

The Doctor searched her eyes with a pained, conflicted expression that made her chest ache, his hand trapping hers against his cheek, obviously unwilling to let her go just yet. Finally, he nodded. “Do what you must.” With one last longing look, the Doctor planted a kiss on her forehead before loping off, back towards his house with the fantastic blue door.

 

Tyler shook off the melancholy that struck her whenever they parted and strode off towards the center of the village, where the returning hunters would be gathered.

 

*

 

The Doctor paced the console room, longing for something to throw or to hit with his mallet.

 

He’d been on edge for so long, that when the TARDIS alerted him to a sudden spike in Rose’s pulse rate and blood pressure, he’d raced headlong towards her, barely waiting to figure out where she was.

 

But it seemed that almost as soon as he’d reassured himself of her well being, she’d insisted on telling a group of increasingly unstable, physically augmented people about a death of one of their own. He knew that she was right; if he were to tell them about this death, they’d have turned on him instantly. Rose had been trapped in their joint delusion and should be afforded some security as such. But she didn’t change like they did, and as such, she was on the fringes of their world. They might just as easily turn on her.

 

So he paced, and he waited, and he learned to hate the door for not echoing with Rose’s knock.

 

Before long, the Doctor heard a howl start outside, first a lone voice, but quickly joined by another and another until it seemed even the TARDIS could not contain the sound. Before the howl had died down, new textures were added to the pandemonium: that of rushing feet, pained yelps, the slamming of doors, and in the distance, the whinny of a panicked draft horse. Eventually, the chaos moved away and faded.

 

Still no knock.

 

The Doctor resentfully resigned himself to an impatient night.

 

After twelve hours without news, the Doctor could be patient no longer. He had waited this long only because Rose had asked him to, and because the TARDIS had reassured him that Rose’s vitals were stable. He threw open the TARDIS door and scowled at the empty streets that greeted him. The overcast sky was colorless, and it seemed to sap the life out of the world, leaving only an angry red streak to throb spitefully against the horizon, a warning of bad weather to come. While the Doctor knew intellectually that it was nothing more than an atmospheric phenomenon, he still begrudged it, a visual representation of the world without Rose.

 

He set off to the village square, his long legs eating up the short distance in moments that still felt like ages. It was there he found Rose, surrounded by a crowd of humans and wolves who were anxiously attending her.

 

“Wulffrith has sent news that he picked up Amou’s scent to the north, I need one of you to join him.” One of the wolves pealed away from the crowd. “Phelan,” Rose continued, “you’re the fastest. Conall was searching in the west; he will want to know the news of his daughter and join them. Go tell him.”

 

A shaggy blond man nodded, dropped to his knees and shifted. The Doctor winced at the sickening sound of bones popping and muscles rewriting themselves to the new form. For a moment, he thought he could hear a scream, but no one else seemed to notice. The wolf, Phelan, paused a moment and staggered, before shaking his head and racing off.

 

The Doctor observed that Rose watched this change with concern, but the other _bleithed_ saw nothing of this momentary weakness. She turned back to the group, “The rest of the men need to split up and inform the other searchers to return until we hear further notice.” The last of the wolves hurried off, joined shakily by a few recently shifted men. Rose turned to those who remained, only a few women. “Orfilia, many of the men will be returning soon, they will need rest and refreshment. I need you to organize the women to prepare food and drink for the village. I will go and tell Faoiltiama that we have news about Amou and ask the baker to grant us the use of his ovens. It should be arranged by the time the women are ready to start cooking.” The tall redhead nodded and led the remaining women out of the square after a few barked orders.

 

Thinking she was alone, Rose leaned for a moment, wearily, against the wall of the blacksmith’s which was uncharacteristically cold and silent. The Doctor couldn’t help the swell of pride, of love, of loss that nearly undid him. No matter what they did to her memories, they couldn’t take away the essence of Rose Tyler, working tirelessly to help others, taking action to guide others when they panicked, caring so much when she didn’t have to. He stepped up behind her and slipped his hand into hers. Without opening her eyes, Rose turned and burrowed into his side, her arm going under his jacket and her nose nuzzling into the soft wool of his jumper. She breathed in deeply and sighed, a sweet look of peace soothing its way across her brow. The Doctor hugged her close, breathing in the comforting smell of her that, underneath the bear-fat soap, remained the same.

 

They stood like that, lending and drawing comfort from each other for some minutes until a distant howl prompted Rose to pull back, her hand sliding down to grasp his in a grip that betrayed her desire to stay.

 

“I have to go. There is still so much to do,” she told him wearily.

 

“Rose,” he began, but she cut him off.

 

“They haven’t yet moved Skoll’s body. You need to look at it. Rumors of the Romans’ approach has captured the pack’s imagination, but I think no man did this, and no Roman.” She clutched his hand convulsively. “Doctor, there were no wounds. Please, go and examine him now, while the pack is still busy. I’m still trying to convince them to seek your help, but they are worried, and a scared wolf doesn’t think straight.” Her hand tightened its grip even further, despite her command for him to leave. “Go. Now. I will come to you as soon as may be, though that will likely not be for many hours.” Rose released his hand and gave him a small push away from her. Rose headed off in the direction that the Doctor knew would take her to the pack leader’s wife. When she turned a corner out of his sight, the Doctor was able to turn and jog off towards the body of Skoll, and what he hoped would be the final clue about what was affecting these people.

 

*

 

The day passed in a dizzying, exhausting whirl. Tyler pushed through the insanity and through the pain that had taken up a permanent residence in her skull over the past few weeks, by clinging to the brief moment of peace she had claimed with the Doctor that morning. By noon, Amou had been found, unconscious and feverish, but still living. Her father had carried her back, so distraught that he could barely cling to his human form. While the women took over tending the girl, the men went forth to investigate the body of the blacksmith. For a few minutes, Tyler’s heart lived in her throat as she hoped that the Doctor had already left. When no commotion arose, she tentatively began to breathe.

 

Night had fallen before Tyler was able to escape from the pack. Orfilia recalled that it had been 48 hrs since Tyler had slept, and she sent her off with strict instructions that the girl rest. However, Tyler needed to know what the Doctor had discovered, so she hastened to the blue door that seemed to shine like a beacon even in the dark of night. Wearily, she knocked on the blue door, but the Doctor did not come. Tyler leaned against the door as she waited, slipping into a much-needed doze. Her head fell back against the door, and a comforting hum entered her, banishing the pain in her skull. She stood straighter, stepping away from the door, and the pain returned, but with it came a strange compulsion. Without questioning it, Tyler reached for a chain around her neck and pulled out the strange silver talisman that had hung around her neck for as long as she could remember. She fit the talisman into the small hole on the blue door and instinctively turned her wrist.

 

The blue door opened at her touch, and Tyler stepped inside, hastily returning the talisman to her neck. As soon as she entered, the pain disappeared again, replaced by a soothing song she couldn’t quite hear but sensed all the same. Looking around at the room that seemed to be larger than the house could contain, Tyler could believe that the Doctor hadn’t been lying when he said that the gods had sent him to her. It was magnificent. It gave the sense of having grown rather than having been built. The center of the room was dominated by a column that looked like glass, but it wasn’t possible that anyone could afford such an extravagance. Unintelligible bits and bobs decorated the table that surrounded the column, and Tyler hadn’t the courage to touch them. A chair beckoned invitingly from next to the table, empty save for the Doctor’s jacket, strewn carelessly across it’s back.

 

“Doctor?” she called out, her voice echoing in the cavernous chamber. She stepped forward, her feet clanking on the metal floor. Further proof of the Doctor’s immeasurable wealth. Why was he here, since he obviously could afford to live anywhere? _You,_ whispered a tiny voice in her head, but it went unheeded. “Hello? Doctor? Are you in here?”

 

A door opened in the back of the chamber, leading further into this magnificent place, but Tyler hung back, not sure she would be welcomed. Instead, she took a seat on the chair by the table, content on waiting for him to show up. His jacket was here; he’d be back if only for that.

 

She glanced at the table, and her breath caught in her throat. There, tucked between items that Tyler couldn’t begin to fathom, was an image, much more detailed than any artist’s drawing or carving. Like any of the _bleithed,_ Tyler had seen her reflection in still water, and she recognized herself, laughing and smiling up at the Doctor whose eyes were twinkling down at her in return. She was dressed in the most peculiar clothing, but there was no doubting that she was looking at herself. Or, rather, at his Rose. She thought back over her life, trying to reconcile this image with her memories, and for a split second, there was an image of the Doctor, welcoming her into this magnificent room, but a cutting spasm of agony knifed through her, stopping her thoughts cold.

 

She cried out in pain, and heard almost instantly two things, a mechanical grinding coming from the glass-like column, and heavy pounding on the grating, coming quickly closer.

 

“No!” she heard the Doctor’s voice ring out. “We don’t know what will happen if she’s separated too quickly!” He pelted to her side and his hands fluttered gently over her head, his fingers fixed at her temples, and Rose could feel the pain being pushed away. The grinding stopped reluctantly. “Rose, are you okay? What happened?”

 

Rose moaned softly, curling into him, grateful for whatever he was doing to guard her from the pain. Something in her knew that he always guarded her, but trying to follow that thought only caused the pain to flare back up, so she let it escape. She gestured vaguely toward the image of them. “That picture,” she began. The Doctor glanced over his shoulder and cursed.

 

“I’m sorry, Rose. I thought reminders might hurt you. I would have hidden it if I’d known you were coming,” he babbled desperately, his hands rubbing soothing circles into her scalp.

 

“That’s me. But, I don’t remember-“

 

The Doctor hushed her gently, pulling her into his arms. “Don’t worry about it, Rose. I’m working on it. I’ll sort this; I promise.” Rose nodded against his shoulder, grateful for his strength holding her up, as she was pretty sure that exhaustion, pain, and worry had stripped away all of her own. The Doctor adjusted them until he was sitting on the seat, Tyler tucked up against him. “Now, how about I tell you what I found, eh? Let’s not think about that anymore.”

 

Rose nodded wearily into his jumper. “Do you know what killed Skoll?”

 

“Not exactly. I know he died of exhaustion, his body completely taxed. I think it’s happening to all of the _bleithed_ , Rose. The change is weakening them. They’re not supposed to change. The TARDIS admits that’s part of the reason why she protects you from the change, but she won’t tell me any more than that.”

 

“But Doctor, the _bleithed_ have changed for generations.”

 

“Not really. It started a few months ago, and it’s changed all of your memories to match. I know of a species that could do this, but I’ve never known them to invade Earth. And they would need a host.”

 

“A host?” Rose asked sleepily.

 

“Someone whose emotions, especially fear, they could feed on. Someone already slightly psychic. Thank Rassilon that they didn’t find you, first. Someone who’s been maybe seeing things or is losing control over their own mind. It would put a drain on them, but they won’t die. The Alii are very careful to keep their host alive.”

 

“Amou,” Rose murmured, more than half asleep against him. “She keeps seeing a burning man.” She started to rouse, pushing herself from his arms, but the Doctor held fast. “We need to go to her, help her.”

 

“It can wait a bit, Rose. She likely won’t wake until morning, and I need to talk to her before I can do anything.” He pulled her back down to lean against him. “Rest for now.” Tyler stopped struggling and let him pull her more fully into his embrace. With the pain fully gone from her head for the first time in weeks, and feeing fully safe, Tyler dropped off almost instantly. One of her last waking memories was the Doctor’s lips gently caressing her brow.


	3. Chapter 3

Tyler woke feeling warm, safe, and content with most of her body protesting. She moved to sit up and nearly toppled to the ground. Warm arms wrapped securely around her and pulled her against a strong chest.

 

“Careful,” the Doctor’s voice murmured in her ear. She blinked her eyes open and was pleased to note that, although most of her body was sore, her headache was still gone. Tyler realized that the Doctor had stayed with her while she slept, and smiled up at him. He looked at her sheepishly, a pink tinge to his ears. “I didn’t want to move you to your room, because there would be too many reminders.” Tyler remembered the splitting pain from the night before, and she knew that it had been caused by something she’d seen, but she couldn’t recall what it was or why it had been important. She sighed and allowed herself to relax against him for a moment longer. “And you haven’t been sleeping recently, I didn’t want to wake you,” the Doctor continued, looking thoroughly chagrined. “You’ve been doing too much, and sleeping on the jump seat can’t have been comfortable. You must be sore.”

 

Tyler grinned up at him, not wanting him to feel guilty for something as wonderful as taking away her headache and giving her a warm, if cramped, place to sleep. “At least my pillow was comfortable,” she told him cheekily. The pink on his ears flamed to red, and Tyler felt her tongue perch itself predatorily at the corner of her mouth. Something about this man brought out the hunting instinct in her in a way that no man of the _bleithed_ had managed. “I’m sure you could come up with something to take the pain away,” she murmured suggestively, with a slight emphasis on the word up.

 

“Ah, yes,” the Doctor stammered, standing up so quickly that Tyler was almost knocked off the seat. “A mild analgesic and anti-inflammatory should do the trick. Stay here, the rest of the TARDIS might bring up too many reminders, but you’ll be safe here.”

 

And he was gone. Tyler wasn’t sure whether she should chuckle or groan in frustration. Instead she turned her mind to the baffling items on the table that surrounded the column that couldn’t be glass. She could almost remember there being an image there the night before, but now it was gone. The more she examined the table, the more she felt a warm, almost familiar humming in the back of her head. It felt like someone welcoming her.

 

“Hello?” she asked quizzically. The hum changed and felt an affirmative.

 

“Are you alive?” Again affirmative. “Do you know me?” Affirmative. “Do I know you?” Affirmative. “Why can’t I remember?” This time the humming felt like a comforting hug that a mother might give a child dealing with hardships beyond their comprehension. “Is he taking care of himself?” A definite no. “Are you taking care of him?” Amused affirmative. “How do I stop this?” The humming expressed a sense of uncertainty so strong that Tyler fought the urge to shrug.

 

Tyler squared her shoulders, fighting a tremor of fear at her next question “Am I his Rose?” A wary affirmative, as if afraid of hurting her. Tyler sighed in what she realized was profound relief.

 

Footsteps echoed down the hall, announcing the Doctor’s return as surely as Caesar’s trumpeters must.  Tyler swallowed down her trepidation and whispered hurriedly, heart in her throat, “Does he love her?”

 

The Doctor hurried into the room declaring he’d found just what she needed, and Tyler jumped, loosing her connection to the hum before sensing the answer. “Here. Drink all of this. I’ve added an electrolyte solution. I know you’ve been over-working yourself, and I doubt I can convince you to sit down to a proper meal-“

 

“We need to talk to Amou,” Tyler protested.

 

“ _Quod erat demonstrandum_ ,” the Doctor continued wryly. “So, at least I can help counteract the effects. And if the drain is getting worse, I want to you strong enough to fight it off, Rose. Now, drink.”

 

Tyler took the large glass, briefly wondering at the fact that he could afford to waste something so fragile and valuable on a something as mundane as a drinking vessel. She eyed the contents warily.

 

“It doesn’t taste bad, I promise,” the Doctor assured her with a sigh. “Though the longer you procrastinate the longer it will be before we can go speak with Amou.”

 

Glaring at him for this blatant manipulation, Tyler chugged the mystery liquid, suddenly understanding Olric’s reticence. Luckily for her, the Doctor wasn’t lying. The potion had a strange taste she had never experienced before, but whispered familiarity across her tongue. It was sweet, but with tart overtones. For some inexplicable reason, it made her think of the color orange.

 

The Doctor smiled indulgently at her when she thrust the empty glass at him as if to say “happy now?” She knew she was being childish, but his quick return had kept her from getting her answer from the strange humming, and she was taking it out on him unrepentantly. The Doctor carelessly placed the glass amongst the myriad of objects on the round table, which elicited a dissonant chime.

 

“I’ll take care of it when I get back. I’d’ve thought you’d accept that this is a bit more important,” the Doctor admonished the room at large. Tyler wondered if he could talk to the hum, too. Turning back to give her a manic grin, the Doctor held out his hand, which Tyler grasped instantly. “Now then, let’s go see this girl of yours.”

 

*

 

The Doctor’s heart was soaring, walking, once again, with Rose Tyler’s hand tucked securely in his own. If Rose’s intuition was correct, and it was more often than not, then he would have her back, wholly and completely herself quite soon. It had been months, and his hearts yearned for her. They walked slowly, their fingers intertwined, discussing what she had observed in the pack leader’s daughter.The Doctor was even more concerned because he knew that Caesar and his troops would be arriving soon. This village was supposed to meet him peacefully, but with the influence of the Alii spreading to the whole village, leading them to paranoia and aggression, the Doctor feared that they would try to fight the Roman’s advancing force, and if they did, they would be crushed. Caesar’s men might be temporarily unnerved by these men who could become wolves, but they thought the Picts were ghosts and still invaded successfully. Nothing supernatural could stop the armies of Caesar.

 

If it came down to it, the Doctor would take Rose and leave.  She would not be an unnamed casualty in Caesar’s _Comentarii_.

 

They reached Conall’s house far too quickly in the Doctor’s opinion, as Rose’s smile disappeared when they reached the door. Rose knocked on the door, calling out to let the inhabitants know who was intruding on their time together. The door opened quickly, Faoiltiama grabbing Rose into a hug which forced the Doctor to relinquish his hold on her. As much as he understood the urge to draw Rose close whenever possible, the Doctor resented having her pulled from him.

 

“Tyler,” Faoiltiama exclaimed, “we can’t thank you enough. You’ve done so much for us. If you hadn’t organized the search, we might’ve never gotten our daughter back.”

 

“Is she awake yet?” Rose asked gently extricating herself from the larger woman’s desperate grip. Faoiltiama nodded briskly. “I’ve brought the Doctor,” Rose stated, stepping back to take his hand. She pulled him closer to the door, and the Doctor was touched to note that she stood slightly between him and the potentially unstable _bleithed._ “I’d like for him to take a look at her, if you don’t mind. I think he can help heal her.”

 

Faoiltiama’s suspicious eyes darted up to examine him, but the Doctor was unconcerned by her scrutiny. After a moment, she nodded. “Of course,” she said with a sudden, warm smile that Rose matched instantly. “After what Conchobhar did for Olric, how could I be anything but grateful? If there is anything you can do for our daughter, we would be most appreciative.”

 

Rose turned her smile on him, as though proud of him for having ingratiated himself with the pack leader’s wife, though he knew it was all her doing. She had brought their son’s injury to him; without her intervention, he likely wouldn’t have such easy access. Even with her memories stolen, she was still helping him. His hearts ached with the desire to fold her in his arms and never let go. Instead, he allowed himself to be pulled into the house, ducking beneath the low lintel.

 

Amou was flushed and drawn. Her eyes were glassy with fever. Her right hand moved aimlessly across the bed.

 

It took the Doctor only a minute to rustle though his pockets before he pulled out what he wanted. He stuffed a pen into the girl’s hand and slid a pad of paper under it. Rose watched sadly as the image of a man on fire soon emerged.

 

“That’s what she was scratching on the ground. She said it’s been haunting her for a few months, now.”

 

After the outline of the burning man was finished, Amou started sketching lines across the limbs. The lines interwove, like threads in a tapestry. A phrase bubbled up from the recesses of the Doctor’s mind.

 

“ _membra contexta vinimibus_ ,” he murmured, surprised and suddenly awash with joy. He knew what this was; this would all be over so very, very soon. Rose looked up at him, wonder and confusion in her eyes.

 

“Isn’t that the language of the Romans? How do you know it?”

 

“Five billion languages I know, and you’re surprised by a bit of Latin,” the Doctor groused fondly, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and hugging her into his side. A wide grim had settled itself firmly on his face and seemed unwilling to leave, no matter the circumstances. “And what about you? You don’t speak a lick of proto-German, and yet you talk with these people without effort. But that’s you to a T, Rose Tyler. Even if you didn’t have the help of the TARDIS, you would be able to communicate with them, because you understand people almost without trying. It’s absolutely fantastic.”

 

Rose looked at him in fond concern. “Are you feeling okay, Doctor?”

 

“Never better, Rose. I’ve always hated archaeologists, and now I get a chance to prove them wrong. Or right. They do love to argue about this account.” He sobered, grabbing her by both shoulders, forcing her to face her. “Now this is important, Rose. We’re going to need a lot of thin, flexible branches, probably as many as the village can collect, and we need them soon.”

 

“Why, Doctor? That kind of large scale harvesting could damage the trees near here. I’ll need a good reason to convince the other _bleithed._ ”

 

Still high on endorphins and adrenaline, the Doctor acted on desire without thinking. “I’ll show you,” he told her huskily. His right hand came up to caress her temple while his left stretched down toward Amou. Before he could second-guess his actions, he pulled Rose into a safe corner of his mind.

 

Rose gasped against him, her hands instinctively clutching him. He felt her surprise and confusion tickle against his consciousness. She sent out a query, seeking confirmation that the presence that surrounded her was, indeed, him. He responded with a warm affirmation, and confusion burst into a warm joy that seemed to illuminate every corner of his soul with her trust and affection.

 

_Don’t worry, Rose, I’m not in your mind, and I won’t look at anything you don’t want me to,_ he reassured her. Rose nodded. _Now, why don’t we take a look at what is influencing your young friend._

 

With her, the Doctor reached out to the Alii teeming furiously through Amou’s overtaxed psyche. Rose gasped, alarm and concern damping the warmth of her in his mind, but the concern was outward. She did not fear for herself. No, she seemed to have an absolute trust in him that he was positive he didn’t deserve. Rather, she was worried for Amou.

 

The Alii were a pale lilac in color that would likely have been pretty they didn’t leave angry red marks wherever they passed. They resembled deadly jellyfish that were tumbling through the poor girl’s brain, drawing in the power of her fear and turning into energy to sustain the changes they’d made on the unshielded villagers.

 

Sensing the Doctor’s presence, they reached for him, trying to snare him in their tendrils, make him a part of the delusion they’d gripped the village in to keep their presence unnoticed, but the Doctor simply batted away their attempts with little effort.

 

“What are you doing in this girl?” he asked them. “She’s not strong enough to support you.”

 

“She was the only one who could receive us. We did not mean to land here. The gods are displeased with us, and so we have been stranded in this place. We are only trying to survive.”

 

“Wha’ d’you mean, stranded?”

 

“Our faith has been deemed unworthy by the gods. Although we performed the ritual, we have been unable to transport. Although we came here only to see this great man of Earth’s history, we arrived too early, and have been unable to move. The gods then cut off our food supply, so we moved to the only mind that was receptive. There were those that were more powerful, but we could not get in. This child was our only hope.”

 

The Doctor fought an intense desire to roll his eyes. The Alii had long since fallen into the grasp of Clarke’s third law. “Any technology, sufficiently advanced, can be mistaken for magic” or, in this case, the gods. The Alii had once been fantastic scientists, but had lost that drive to study and discover, and their science had been converted to religion. Now, they operated their ships by ritual rather than by knowing the mechanisms of their own instruments. Since their ships were telepathic, they were still able to get where they need to go, but they had lost the knowledge of proper maintenance. It was only a matter of time before they all broke down.

 

This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence when one took the entirety of Time and Space into consideration. But most of the time when this occurred, there was a priesthood made up of those who could understand and help fix the machines. The Alii, in their infinite idiocy, had shunned priests several centuries ago, rebelling against the clergy in a belief that they are being kept from communicating directly with their gods.

 

One of the Alii drifted closer to Rose, doubtless lured by the strength of her mind. The Doctor clutched her closer to him and lashed out with all the protective fury that he had been forced to quash during the past few months.

 

“Don’t you touch her!” he bellowed, his defense of her so strong that the injudicious Alius went careening backwards, scattering his comrades. “You invaded this girl’s mind, you have altered the minds and the bodies of every human in this village, you are killing these villagers, draining them of their strength, and you have the gall to try to attach to the mind of my companion while I am standing right here?” The Doctor raised his hand, ready to drive them from Amou’s mind, heedless of the fact that it would kill them and could irreparably damage Amou.

 

Rose made a soft, soothing noise next to him, her hand brushing gently across his. The Doctor reigned in his anger, and spat out bitterly, “No wonder the gods have forsaken you. Luckily for you, I am capable of intervening with them on your behalf. But you must give me access to your ship. There will be a cleansing ritual.”

 

“Our ship is in the wood to the east of here. On the road that will bring Caesar.”

 

“Why wolves?” Rose blurted out, before the Doctor could pull them out of Amou’s mind. “Why do you turn the villagers to wolves when it only kills them?”

 

“That was this child’s wish. We are giving her a world in which she can feel strong and, in feeling strong, feel safe.”

 

“She’s the pack leader’s daughter.” Rose interjected. “Why wouldn’t she feel safe?”

 

“She has heard of Caesar’s coming. She was told what Caesar’s men would do to the maidens in the area after they have killed all the men.”

 

The Doctor shook his head. “Rumor, compared with whom no other is as swift. She flies, screeching, by night though the shadows between earth and sky, never closing her eyelids in sweet sleep” he muttered bitterly. “They normally wouldn’t bother. After all, they had plenty of camp followers.” He fixed the Alii with a fierce glower, letting them see the Storm in his eyes. “Take no more from this girl than you absolutely need to survive. I will see to your ship. If you continue to harm these people, you will have me to answer to.” He detached himself and Rose from Amou’s mind, so that they could no longer see or hear the Alii, not interested in the pleas or protests.

 

“Now do you understand why I need the young branches?” he asked.

 

“For the cleansing ritual?”

 

The Doctor smiled ruefully. “Essentially. Just know that it will get their ship working and them out of here. It will save this village.”

 

Rose nodded determinedly. “I’ll go talk to them. We should have them by tonight.”

 

The Doctor pulled his hand back from Rose’s temple, severing their connection. Rose shivered and tears sprang up in her eyes.

 

“Where’d you go?” she asked in a small voice.

 

“I’m still here,” he told her with a tap to his temple. “Where I always was.”

 

“Then where’d I go?” she persisted.

 

“Back into your head, where you belong.”

 

“I can’t stay with you?”

 

The Doctor shook his head, pushing aside the enormity of what she’d just asked him. “I can’t maintain the connection without touch, unless I make it permanent.”

 

“Then why don’t you make it permanent?”

 

The Doctor swallowed. “Ask again when you’re you again,” he told her, his voice rough. “Now off with you. I’ve got to see to this ship of theirs.”


	4. Chapter 4

Tyler paused for a moment before approaching Faoiltiama, collecting herself. She couldn’t tell them that their daughter was unwell due to creatures invading her mind, and that they were all under some type of spell that altered their memories. That would certainly send them into frenzy.  Tyler decided it was better to tell them only what they needed to know. She quickly dashed the tears from her eyes that had arisen when the Doctor had pulled away from her and stepped forward.

“The Doctor thinks he can help her.” She told them gently, starting with the good news. “But he’s going to need our help and that of all the village.”

“How can we help?” Conall demanded, strain evident in his body.

“The Doctor needs all the young branches we can harvest by this evening. There will be a cleansing ritual.”

“The hell there will be,” Connall growled, trying to push past Tyler to pursue the Doctor who had already left to find the ship. “My daughter’s sick, that’s no reason for Conchobhar to go slandering her as someone who has angered the gods. She’s a good girl.”

Tyler tried to stand her ground, but Connall shoved her to the side. Tyler couldn’t help regret being the runt, but she would not be so easily dismissed. She wrapped her arms around Connall’s waist as he pushed past and held on firmly.

“Connall, no! It’s nothing she’s done. She’s been infected, and only the gods can chase out what has invaded her, but it’s not her fault! Don’t waste time by taking this out on the Doctor!”

Connall’s temper flared through his body, triggering the change, but Tyler held fast, ignoring the scratching claws as Connall struggled to get free. But the change and his sleepless night had weakened him, and Tyler was able to hold him back.

“The Doctor is going to help her. He’s the only one who can!” Rose insisted. “Go. Be with your daughter. She needs you to be with her, not to attack someone trying to cure her.” Connall fell limp in Tyler’s grip, and she cautiously released him, prepped to catch him if he bolted after the Doctor. Instead, he meekly walked into the room where his daughter rested, and curled up next to her, his head on her stomach. Tyler heaved a sigh of relief.

“Do not think unkindly on him, Tyler.” Faoiltiama said softly. “He never does reason well when worried.”

Tyler smiled at her. “I understand. I couldn’t blame him for being concerned for his daughter.”

Faoiltiama smiled her gratitude. “Now, let’s go address the rest of the _bleithed_. With all of us working together, we should have enough within a few hours.”

Tyler beamed at the older woman, immensely grateful to have someone else who could keep a cool head.

The next few hours passed in a blur of climbing, chopping, and dragging. It was well before dark when a pile of thin, flexible branches lay in the square. Several members of the _bliethed_ stood wearily, while others, in wolf form to help haul the timber, lay panting in the late afternoon sun. Tyler looked towards the East, waiting for the Doctor to return. When the sun touched the earth behind her, the Doctor came into square, dragging an oblong metal object nearly the size of a grown man. The orange light of sunset blazed on his strong features, making the blue of his eyes flare as he grinned when his eyes met Tyler’s.

“I can fix it, Rose,” he told her with reverent jubilance as he came up next to her, dropping the metal craft to raise his hand to her cheek. “It’ll all be over so, so soon.”

Tyler beamed up at him. “So, what do we need to do?”

The Doctor elbowed her playfully. “Watch this.” He turned to the assembled crowd. “ _Bleithed,_ The plague that has killed Skoll and now infects Amou can be dispelled. The gods have given unto us that which they demand as tribute. They want a sacrifice of man and earth.” He kicked the object at his feet. “They provide the earth, we must provide the man.”

“Human sacrifice?” a voice called out. “The gods have never demanded that of us, Conchobhar.”

“An effigy,” the Doctor clarified, gesturing towards the amassed branches. “Woven from those and surrounding the offering of earth. If we set it alight, sending its essence up to the gods, we will succeed in banishing this plague.”

There was a general murmuring of consent. Tyler took the Doctor’s hand and squeezed.  “Let me handle it from here.” Quick as a flash, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, and then she was gone, leaving the Doctor to stand dumbfounded, his fingers pressed to his cheek and a look of such joyful longing on his face that the villagers nudged each other with knowing smiles. Tyler ignored their gossip, instead ordering the _bleithed_ into different teams. Some would strip the branches, some would split the thicker ones, others would weave, while still others would see to fixing food for the village.

Children gathered the twigs and leaves stripped from the branches and started a fire in the square giving warmth and light for the night. The Doctor retreated into his blue-doored house and soon returned with a strangely clear sack filled with fluffy white things. He speared a few on sticks and showed the children how to roast them in the fire. Then he stuck his own in the fire, watched it burn for a few seconds, and blew it out, popping it in his mouth with an encouraging grin. The children laughed and tasted their own, crying out in delight. Tyler watched all of this, oblivious to the gentle smile that danced like the firelight in her eyes.

The Doctor took his time with the next one he speared until, after several minutes, it had become a deep golden color all over. He walked over to where Tyler was busy intertwining the branches, and with darkened eyes, he removed it from the stick and offered it to her lips. Not able to look away from his hooded gaze, Tyler accepted the morsel, sweetness bursting across her tongue. She blinked at him in delight.

“That’s amazing! What is that?” she asked eagerly.

“Marshmallows. I know you like them on your cocoa, so I thought you might like them toasted.” His thumb came up to swipe along the side of her bottom lip, the sensation forcing Tyler’s breath to a halt. It came away with a bit of the goo and he lapped it off, his gaze never leaving hers.

“Cocoa?” she asked breathlessly.

He nodded. “I’ll make you a cup as soon as this is over.”

Fingers itching with the need to drop her task and wrap her hands around the back of his ears like handles and haul his lips against hers to learn the taste of marshmallows on him, Tyler looked away. The Doctor had asked her to wait until she was herself again, and she only hoped she would remember how much she loved him when she returned to his Rose.

The sound of running feet broke her reverie. A man Tyler vaguely recognized as belonging to a neighboring village came pelting in amongst them, skidding to a halt.

“Caesar is coming. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

Worried mutters spread through the _bleithed_. Tyler closed her eyes wearily. “Will we ever get a break?” she muttered darkly. The Doctor smiled wanly.

A rustle at the back drew all eyes to Connall as he stood. He looked briefly panicked and Tyler worried that he was going to shift, but the pack leader took a steadying breath.

“Well then,” he stated calmly. “It looks like we have a deadline. Get back to work.” He came forward and drew the messenger to the side. Tyler turned her attention back to her task. One by one, the rest of the _bleithed_ followed her example. When Tyler next glanced up, the village was back to work, the wicker man being quickly assembled. She caught the Doctor’s eyes from across the fire where he tinkered with the ship using strange tools, some of which occasionally buzzed or whirred, and the grin he sent her warmed her more than the flames.

*

First light trickled weakly through the village, doing little to dispel the stubborn shadows still clinging in the corners of both the square and people’s spirits. They had worked through the night, with brief naps being taken in shifts as the work became more bound together, requiring fewer hands. The only ones who hadn’t slept were the Doctor, Rose, and Amou’s parents. Amou remained trapped in a feverish sleep.

Each of the legs of the wicker man was the size of a large man, and the torso was built around the ship.  The arms, which were nearly as large as the legs, lay nearby with the head, waiting to be connected. It was stuffed with straw to ensure it would fully burn. Most of the women went into their houses, and soon a meal was brought out to be shared with those still working.

Rose and the Doctor ate in silence in front of the cold ashes of the fire, sitting shoulder to shoulder in an effort to repel the grim atmosphere. The Doctor knew that Rose was exhausted, nodding a few times over the porridge-like meal but stubbornly jerking back awake, determined to keep going.

When her head finally fell against his shoulder, he gently took the bowl from the limp grip of her hands that were covered with small cuts and abrasions from a night spent wrestling with rough-barked branches. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her more firmly against him. She nuzzled into his shoulder and let out a soft sigh, her left hand resting on his stomach where it balled into a fist clutching his jumper. The Doctor knew that the rest of the construction would be completed fairly quickly. If they set it alight when they heard the approach of the Romans, everything should get set right. Until then, he’d fight the world if he had to in order to let Rose rest. He tucked Rose’s head under his chin and glared threateningly at anyone in the wakening village who made too much noise.

By the time the sun no longer touched the ground, the villagers had attached the arms and were nearly done the head. Rose stirred against him instinctively turning her face into him to escape the light. She rested there a moment before starting, looking up at the risen sun before turning to the Doctor a charming blush tempting him to lower his head and kiss the embarrassment from her.

“Guess I was more tired than I thought,” she mumbled, her eyes briefly searching his before dropping to stare at her left hand where it still gripped his jumper.

“Don’t be. It won’t do for you collapse from exhaustion.” He felt Rose tense under his arm and cursed himself. “Besides,” he added quickly before she could draw away. “I-” He tried to force the words out, but he couldn’t. He’d spent so long denying and tamping down his feelings that he didn’t know how to give them voice.

Hope lived briefly in her eyes, but at his continued silence, it packed up and slunk off with bad grace. Rose started to move away, but the Doctor tightened his hold on her. “Don’t go,” he said not caring how desperate he sounded. “I like it when you’re near me.” Inwardly, he cringed at how inadequate, how paltry it sounded, but Rose didn’t seem to mind.

“Really?” she breathed.

“I feel whole again in a way I haven’t in a long time,” he admitted.

Rose’s eyes dipped to his mouth and she licked her lips quickly. The Doctor both longed for and feared her kiss. While he pined for her touch as he had since his hand had first grasped hers, even more so now that he had touched her mind, he still wanted her to want him only when she knew him, and the Alii had taken that away from her, from them.

A cheer went up from the _bleithed_ , causing them to jerk apart. Looking over, they saw the wicker man being raised up, towering above the primitive village. The Doctor grinned down at Rose, full of joy and pride and longing and other emotions he daren’t give name to. She was absolutely entrancing, beaming and flushed with excitement.

Her lips were on his before he had a chance to stop her, and cursing his own weakness, he crushed her to him with a groan of surrender. It was the sort of kiss that would keep him up nights. Her lips parted eagerly under his, allowing him access to treasures he would never be so bold as to claim for his own. Her hand speared through his short hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp drawing a low moan from some primal part of him.

He cradled the back of her head, taking complete control of the kiss, plundering what was so freely given. Knowing he shouldn’t, the Doctor turned to face her more fully and let his hand wander up her side to graze her breast, relishing the moan that escaped her as it might be the only one he ever heard.

Marshaling his strength, he pulled back from her, panting with repressed desire. Guilt and longing and heartbreak warred to be his primary emotion, but he swallowed them all down and forced himself to meet her eyes.

“Rose, I-“ he started, uncertain that he knew what he would say.

“It’s okay. I know,” she reassured him gently. “You want to wait until I remember. That was just in case your Rose doesn’t remember how much I love you.”

Unable to breathe, the Doctor stared at his glorious Rose, his perpetual savior no matter what was done to her. He felt tears prick at his eyes. “Rose, I-“ he tried again and was again stopped.

“Don’t, Doctor. I want to remember, too. What if these past few months just disappear when she comes back?” Her hand came up to wipe the tear from his eye. “Soon, yeah?”

The Doctor swallowed thickly and nodded.

Connall approached them. “Conchobhar, when should we start? Scouts have reported that Caesar is nearly upon us.”

The Doctor stood and reached a hand down to pull Rose up with him. “Better sooner rather than later.” He said earnestly, Rose’s hand still tucked tightly in his. They made their way over to the wicker man, where the village was gathered.

The Doctor knelt by the bed that held Amou, and dipped briefly into her mind. The Alii still swarmed, the evidence of their damage even more evident. “Return to your ship. It is repaired. All that is necessary now is a ritual that the humans are taking care of. You will be free to leave within the hour. And stay away from this planet. You’ve done enough damage.” If they’d had legs, the Alii would have tripped over themselves trying to escape the Doctor’s rage. When they were gone, the Doctor tried his best to soothe the wounds they left, but this sort of healing was not his specialty. Most of her healing would be up to her. He withdrew, making sure he didn’t leave any footprints behind; the girl would likely struggle to find herself without him leaving a mental mess.

He stood before the _bleithed_ just as the sound of many feet pounding the ground started to be audible. “Today, we honor the gods and petition them to remove this plague from among us.” He intoned loudly for all to hear. “We give to them an offering of earth and man so that they may know our devotion to them. Let us all pray and focus on removing the illness from the center of this offering.” He raised his sonic screwdriver and pointed it at the feet of the man, grinning as flames began to hungrily spread over the wood, leaving red trails that resembled the wounds the Alii had left in Amou.

Rose came to stand next to him, her fingers interwoven with his. “How much longer?” she murmured.

“It won’t be long now,” he told her softly, and pulled her more fully into his side.

Rose stood, silently enfolded in his embrace. They watched the flames together; the Doctor was in turmoil waiting for what was to happen. He wanted so desperately for Rose to come back to him wholly herself, but he feared that she would forget pressing her lips to his or, worse yet, that she would regret it. The flames licked higher and there was suddenly an emptiness in the air. Around them, the _bleithed_ collapsed to the ground. Rose leaned heavily against him, as though barely able to keep herself standing.

Rose raised a shaky hand to her forehead and massaged it for a moment before looking up at him. The Doctor looked down at her, his hearts in his throat blocking any words from escaping.

“Doctor?” she asked, her voice trembling.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A translation of the Latin is provided at the bottom.

Rose Tyler had been the runt of the litter. She, alone of the village, had been unable to shift, not even when the moon rose, full and beckoning, in the night. But even without knowing that, any observer could have quickly discerned she was different. She had kept the peace; she had placated; she had even been known to back down when challenged, if she had thought the fight unworthy.

The rest of the village hadn’t been able to understand her behavior, so they’d put it down to her being the runt. It had been completely uncharacteristic for any member of the _bleithed_. And though many had recognized the value of someone who could mend bridges, there had been those who looked down on her for this weakness.

She hadn’t known that it made the Doctor love her more, but she did now, and it filled her with inconsolable joy.

Rose leaned against the Doctor, content to use her dizziness as an excuse to stay wrapped in the Doctor’s strength, uncertain what her next move was supposed to be. She could remember the last few months, but the memories almost didn’t seem to be hers. It was as if a large amount of data had been dumped into her mind, and it was a daunting task to sort through. If she delved into a memory, it was briefly as if she were experiencing it, and then it felt truly her own, as if it were assimilated. But even without entering these months worth of memories, an undertaking she figured would have to wait until she had some down time, the headlines were displayed prominently in her mind.

And what salacious headlines there were. _Extra, Extra:_ the Doctor’s kiss could make Rose Tyler’s knees weak even when she was sitting down _. Read all about_ how Rose Tyler had never felt more cherished than when wrapped by the protective presence of the Doctor’s mind. But splashed across the front page in the biggest possible font that seemed to glow mauve, Rose Tyler confesses love to the Doctor; Doctor seems likely to respond in kind.

For the briefest second, a worried voice said she should pretend to forget it all. He might not want her to remember, might not want to change their friendship. But it was silenced by the look on the Doctor’s face when she told him she loved him, somehow both a memory and something she was seeing for the first time, flashing into her mind. It was a look that both tore at and mended her heart, full of longing, disbelief, and rapturous wonder.

Rose raised her eyes to meet the Doctor’s gaze. To anyone else, he might appear calm, but Rose could see the panic he was trying to smother. She smiled, hoping to reassure him. “Doctor, I-” a horn sounded from no more than 30 meters away, causing the Doctor to curse, turning his gaze on the slowly awakening village.

“We’ve got to wake them, Rose. Caesar can’t see them like this, it could change his entire Gallic campaign.”

“Bloody trumpet,” Rose sighed bitterly.

“Technically, it’s a classicum,” the Doctor told her, distractedly. Rose was gratified to note that, while his gaze had abandoned her, his mind visibly whirring into overdrive as he tried to figure out how to bring the villagers to full alertness, his arms remained locked around her, unwilling to relinquish her despite History’s call.

A nearby villager whimpered as he started to come to. Rose wondered, if it was so hard for her to come to terms with what had happened and she had been shielded by the TARDIS, how much more would they still be affected?

“I might be able to fix this,” she told him. The Doctor’s eyes flew down to her, at once surprised, proud, and slightly worried. Not letting him voice his concern Rose threw her head back and howled.

She felt a little ridiculous doing it, but the instincts of the wolf, which had not fully faded yet from the minds of the former _bleithed_ , caused them to rouse, seeking to protect a pack member. Connall was the first to stand, and he quickly checked Amou, who seemed to be rousing.

“Caesar is here,” the Doctor told him. Connall’s eyes widened in concern and he quickly straightened his clothes.

“Will you both accompany me to meet him?” he asked solicitously. Rose couldn’t tell how much he remembered, but he seemed to know they were on his side.

The Doctor looked down at her, quizzically, deferring to her wishes. “Why not?” she asked almost dismissively. “Seeing him was the whole reason we came here.”

Suddenly, she was crushed against him in an exuberant hug. “You’re back,” he breathed. “Oh, Rose, you’re back.”

“I’m back,” she assured him when he released her enough to let her breathe. “And Doctor, I remember.”

“You remember?” The Doctor’s voice was so soft she could barely discern it despite still being wrapped in his arms.

“I remember,” she repeated firmly, refusing to back away from this. His continued immobility forced her to fill the silence, babbling until he could react. “I don’t know why I worried I’d forget, those sorts of things stick with you. I mean it’s not every day you tell a person you love them for the first time, or kiss them-”

“If you insist,” he muttered before crashing his lips down on hers. She opened immediately under his onslaught, eager to claim him even as she accepted his claim. A giddy thrill rushed through her with the knowledge that she had this right now, to claim him, to kiss him. He was hers.

Before they could really get started, an irritated throat cleared.

“As happy as I am for the two of you, and as much I like winning the bet I had with Wulffrith, you did say Caesar is here, and I doubt it’s wise to keep him waiting.” Connall stalked off towards the main entrance to the village

Rose exchanged a gleeful, sheepish look with the Doctor, and they followed the chieftain, hands grasped tightly between them.

Two men stood just outside the gate into town. They were dressed identically; the only difference being that one man had a thin red sash tied around his chest. “That one’s Caesar,” the Doctor murmured in her ear. “Roman generals would have a red tie around their torso to signify them as general in case they lost their head during the battle.” Rose fought down a shiver as his breath ghosted over sensitive skin, and she forced her attention to stay on the soldiers.

“He’s shorter than I’d imagined,” she muttered back. “He’s like a little Roman Napoleon.”

“Actually, he’s shorter than Napoleon, but then, most Romans were. The average Roman was only 157cm. Napoleon was 169cm.”

Rose giggled. “Is that why he-?”

“No,” the Doctor chuckled. “Caesar didn’t have a height problem. He just wanted to be the biggest fish in the pond. He once said he’d rather be the first man in a tiny province in Spain than be second in Rome. It’s ultimately what will lead to his civil war with Pompeius Magnus. He couldn’t bear to be second; Pompey couldn’t bear to have an equal.”

Conall stepped forward and introduced himself as the leader of the village.

Rose rolled her eyes, keeping an eye on the meeting between the men. “Because their egos are worth dying over.”

The Doctor shrugged. “Sometimes your ego is all you have. The only thing that keeps you going.” The Doctor gave her a sideways glance. “At least until you can find something better to live for.”

Rose squeezed his hand sympathetically. He rarely gave her insight like this into his life after the war before she met him. In front of them, the man without a sash was introducing himself as a translator for Caesar.

“I take it these guys don’t have girlfriends?” she whispered.

“Actually, Pompey is currently married to Caesar’s daughter, and he is head over heels for her. It’s the only thing that keeps the peace. When Julia dies in childbirth, Pompey is grief stricken and bitter. He’s inconsolable.” The Doctor trails off, his hand tightly gripping Rose’s, clearly commiserating with the Roman general’s loss. Rose moves closer to him, hoping to remind him that he hasn’t lost her yet. When her shoulder bumps his, the Doctor shakes himself from his melancholy and smiles down at her. “But while she lives, Pompey is softer, more willing to work with Caesar.”

Caesar casts his eyes over them disdainfully, and Rose falls silent, sensing that continuing her conversation with the Doctor will hurt Conall’s efforts to maintain peace and autonomy.

“ _Salvete_ ,” Caesar said when he decided he had everyone’s attention.

“The illustrious general, Julius Caesar, greets you,” the interpreter intoned.

“ _Video hoc parvum oppidum esse. Dissensionem cum vos non habeo. Frumentum a vos ut nostros alere possim parare cupio. Vobis salutem pacemque redebo. Nobis vos tegente vostrum oppidum incrementum sciet_.”

“The noble Caesar has no quarrel with a small town full of hard working people, as this village obviously is. He merely wishes to purchase grain from you to feed his troops. In return, he promises you peace and health. He will grant you protection so that your town may thrive.” The interpreter’s voice was like snake oil, it glided into the listeners’ ears and smarmed its way into their brains. Rose shook her head against it, suddenly feeling dirty.

“No money is offered, I see.” Connall remarked.

“Caesar will pay you,” the Doctor interjected. “It won’t be what you could get on the open market, but it won’t beggar you. And you want to stay on his good side.”

Connall offered a small smile to the interpreter. “Please tell Caesar that we will need some time to find out how much grain we can offer. Tell him that he and his men are welcome into the village while they wait.” The interpreter looked annoyed, but relayed the message.

 As Connall and his men began to retreat Caesar remarked softly. “ _Eis quam stultissimis exstante, ad primam luce adsumus_.”

The Doctor spun on his heel to face the most powerful man presently alive. “ _Ei, noli putare eos stultos esse solos quod magnum forum aut pulrchra aedificationa non habere. Mehercule,  Tam stultus es ut in frigidissimo Borea tunicula geraseris_.” He snapped out rapid, clipped sentences. Rose knew he was being both angry and condescending, but she didn’t understand a word. “ _Quale morio facit?  Glaciales columnae tuae vostraeque cum masturbetis suffricabuntur_.”

Caesar bristled, clearly undaunted by the Doctor’s larger stature. “ _Coge quem loquaris_.”

“ _Audi, parva merda, scivi tuum avunculum, Gaium Marium. Bonus erat. Cum proximo tempo te vidi, tibi novas subligaculas donabam. Sic, tacete aut te intricabo_.” The Doctor growled.

Caesar visibly quelled but rallied quickly. He straightened and walked past them, dripping dignified disdain. The Doctor rolled his eyes at the retreating general, before a mischievous look overtook his features. He looked down at Rose, an impish glint in his eyes.

“You’ll want to see this,” he said, grinning widely, all but dragging her into the center of the town.

Not yet reduced to embers, the shell of the wicker man still burned there, it’s payload long since having launched. Caesar stared up at the giant effigy, something akin to awe on his face. He muttered something to his interpreter that Rose couldn’t quite pick out. The interpreter cautiously approached Connall, who was just finishing speaking to several of the villagers, ordering them to take inventory of their stores.

“What is this?” the interpreter asked, gesturing to the burning giant.

“It is a sacrifice to our gods,” Connall stated simply. At the interpreter’s slightly nervous stare, Connall grinned wolfishly. “We build this giant man out of wicker, but he is hollow inside. We stuff him with prisoners, and burn them all in one go, giving honor to our gods and ridding ourselves of criminals.”

“Are the prisoners still alive?” the interpreter asked fearfully.

“Of course.” Connall stated simply, giving the man a friendly smile that seemed to scare him more than any malicious look.

Rose watched the interpreter return to Caesar, smothering her giggles. Caesar listened to the hushed words, and looked over at Connall with a new respect.

“It doesn’t scare him?” Rose asked.

“Nah. That’s the sort of thing Romans would be fine with, though they didn’t quite sacrifice humans themselves. All the Romans thought the Gauls and the Celts practiced this regularly. No one’s ever known where they got this idea.” His eyes danced with mirth.

“Guess we know, now.” Rose said, turning to face him fully, both her hands in his. She couldn’t help but return his grin. “Just one thing I don’t get. How did that-” she gestured to the fire that was starting to loose its shape “make the Alii’s ship work?”

“The Alii’s ship is slightly psychic, so it needed the belief of everyone watching.” The Doctor told her with his best I’m-so-impressive grin. “Its power cells had been completely drained, and the heat from the fire could be absorbed by it and converted into the energy it needed. As soon as it recharged, it was able to take off.”

“Will Amou be okay?” Rose asked softly.

The Doctor’s grin faded. “Should be. Only we will remember exactly what happened here. I wasn’t even sure you’d remember, but the TARDIS must have protected you more than I’d realized. Amou will remember being sick, and it will take some time for her to get back to herself, but she’ll heal.” He told her with a reassuring smile. “You humans are a rebounding lot. Now, though, we best get out of here and let the villagers handle the rest of their first contact with the Romans. They need to deal with this on their own.”

Rose nodded and turned towards the TARDIS, keeping one hand tucked securely in his. They started their trek back to the TARDIS. They’d done what needed to be done, and it was time they left so that history could get back to normal. She was not reluctant to leave this place. She missed the TARDIS and she missed being with the Doctor throughout the day, rather than the stolen moments she’d had with him as Tyler.

“How come you weren’t affected by all this?” Rose wondered aloud while the Doctor unlocked the blue door that sat in the doorway of the building the Doctor had commandeered.

The Doctor paused before answering, taking her hand as they walked into the console room. Rose closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of the relieved TARDIS in her mind, welcoming her home. She gave the TARDIS a mental hug, letting the old girl know she’d been missed. Rose opened her eyes, fully aware he was watching her, making sure she was okay; she smiled at him, glad to be back where she belonged: in her head, next to him. After a few seconds of searching her eyes, no doubt wondering if she regretted coming with him, he tentatively returned the smile.

“Time Lord,” The Doctor answered, devoid of his usual smugness when explaining his genetic superiority. “We were trained to have strong mental defenses.”

“I don’t suppose that humans can have them. You never know when something like that will come in handy,” Rose remarked dryly.

*

The Doctor flinched as though she’d slapped him. “Rose…” his voice broke. Rose opened her mouth to cut him off, but he didn’t let her. “I’m sorry,” he gushed out, his desperation freezing her protests on her tongue. He’d bottled this up for three months, and he needed to get it out. “I’m so sorry, Rose.” Tears stung his eyes, and he saw an answering glimmer in her own. “I’m the one who brought you here. This is my fault.”

“No, Doctor-” Rose protested but the Doctor railroaded over her.

“I’m meant to keep you safe, and I failed. I-”

Rose slammed her hand over his mouth, forcing him to hear her.

“This is not your fault, it’s the Alii’s fault,” she insisted, but the Doctor knew better. “And you didn’t fail. It’s only because of you that I was safe. Every one of them could have died from changing, but I didn’t change because you kept me safe.”

“That was the TARDIS,” the Doctor spat, bitterly. “I can hardly claim credit.”

“But it was you who figured out what was causing it. So the TARDIS kept my body safe, but it was you who saved _me._ I didn’t remember anything of who I was. I didn’t remember you, the TARDIS, London; I didn’t even remember my own mum.” The Doctor wanted to protest, would have if she removed her hand, but she didn’t give him a chance. “You. Saved. Me,” she repeated firmly. She replaced her hand with her lips, coaxing him into returning the kiss. She kissed him with a persuasion that broke his heart and a hunger that melted it back together. She moaned softly, and he pulled back, unwilling to take advantage of her.

“Rose, I-I can’t.” he wailed softly.

“You bloody well can,” she retorted, always pushing him.

“I can’t keep you safe. If we encounter them again-”

“If we encounter them again, they’ll run screaming into the Void rather than face you.”

“But there are other species that can attack your mind,” he persisted.

“Then teach me how to protect myself,” Rose shot back, her patience clearly gone. She always knew when he was hiding something from her, and she always fought it.  “You can’t just wrap me up in cotton wool.”

“You’re human, you can’t just learn how. Not without it first being done to you.”

“Then do it yourself! Whatever it is that you need to do, do it!”

The Doctor froze, stricken. “Rose wouldn’t say that,” he choked out.

“Yes, I would.”

“She-she wouldn’t let me in her mind.”

“Well, I’m Rose and I-“

“No!” he shouted and stalked away from her, deeper into the TARDIS, trying to escape such blatant evidence that he had failed. He heard her scurrying along behind him, trying to keep up with his longer strides.

“She didn’t even like the TARDIS translating for her. She would never let me in her head, not my Rose.” The Doctor only realized he was speaking aloud when an incensed Rose seized his arm and hauled him to a stop, facing her.

“I am your Rose, Doctor. When I didn’t know who I was, you did.” She looked up at him with pleading eyes, begging him to believe her, but he couldn’t meet her gaze for longer than a second. “I told you not to call me Rose; I told you to give up, but you didn’t. You never gave up on me. You knew I was still your Rose. You told me so every time.” The Doctor was doubtful, but he could feel his resolve crumbling, he wanted to curse his weakness. Rose pressed, “I am your Rose, Doctor.”

The Doctor jerked his head sharply to the side, desperate to escape her scrutiny. “There must be residual effects from the damage done by the Alii. Rose, you would never willingly let anyone into your mind.”

“Then test me!” she exploded. “If it would make you feel better, scan my brain, there must be something in that med bay of yours that can prove this is my choice.”

The Doctor stared at her, now unable to look away.  He searched her eyes in the hope that she could be right. But he had known that Tyler’s being more amenable to him entering her mind was likely a side effect to the Alii’s invasion. If that hadn’t been fixed by their expulsion, how much else of her was altered? Was it Rose who kissed him or a remnant of Tyler?

The TARDIS gave him a mental prod, jerking his feet to life. He plodded towards the med bay like a condemned man towards the gallows. He wanted nothing less than his failures spelled out for him in unforgiving numbers, but, as always, he could deny Rose nothing.

She sat meekly on the examination table, letting him work in silence. He ran a wand slowly over her head. The computer chugged the numbers for a few minutes, processing her brain waves as they compared to what they should be. The tension of waiting made the Doctor almost regret resorting to 46th century medical equipment, rather than simply making an examination himself, but he couldn’t take advantage of her sudden willingness to allow him in her mind. Finally, a beep from the computer told him that the results were in. Rose squeezed his hand encouragingly, drawing a wan smile from him. He pulled the screen around to face them.

The shock of what he found made him sit down, hard. Rose’s patience soon ran out.  
“Doctor? What’s wrong?” she asked, her concern not entirely masked. The Doctor couldn’t find the words to respond. “Oh god, Doctor, am I going to be okay?” The panic that tinged her voice jerked him from his reverie.

He pulled her into his embrace. Gratefully breathing in her smell under the bear-fat soap. “You’ll be fine. You _are_ fine.” He beamed down at her, stepping back and taking both her hands, swinging them a little in giddy joy. “I don’t know how, but it’s like the Alii never touched you.”

“How’s that possible?”

“I guess the TARDIS protected you more than I’d thought. She was very worried about you.”

Rose nodded thoughtfully. “So, do you believe me now?” she asked warily.

The Doctor couldn’t keep from balking a bit. “I don’t know, Rose-“

“At least you’re calling me by name, again.”

“I don’t understand how you changed your mind about something so fundamental,” the Doctor finished, ignoring her interruption.

Rose took a deep breath, and the Doctor could almost feel her holding back an eye-roll. “Doctor,” she said calmly, rationally, “what do you think I’ve changed my mind about? Letting you in my mind? Doctor, I’d’ve been willing to let you in my mind almost as long as I’ve known you. If you can give me these mental defenses that kept you safe from all this, I want you to do.”

“But when you found out about the TARDIS-“

“Well, I hardly knew you then, did I? And I certainly didn’t know her yet.” The Doctor looked at her a little askance at that, but decided to come back to that issue at a later date. “All I wanted was to be asked first, but Doctor, I trust you with everything. I trust you to do this.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” the Doctor protested.

“You don’t know what I’m offering,” she countered. Her hand came up to cup his cheek, her thumb resting against the corner of his mouth. “I trust you with _everything,_ Doctor. I trust you with all of time and space; I trust you with my planet, with my life, with my mum’s life. I trust you with my body, Doctor.” She paused for a moment, checking to make sure he knew what she meant. All he could offer as confirmation was a sound in the back of his throat which suspiciously resembled a whimper. “So, yes, I trust you with my mind.”

The Doctor was staggered by the weight of her faith in him. He couldn’t speak. Knowing he likely looked a daft fool, he could only stand there, his mouth opening quickly just to snap closed again, like a beached carp. She couldn’t mean it, _shouldn’t_ mean it after all he’d done. Her thumb brushed against his cheek where her hand still rested, spurring him to action.

Relishing her shriek of surprise, the Doctor scooped Rose up and sat her on the examination table. He stepped between her legs and placed his hands on either side of her, trapping her against him. In this position, she was nearly his height, their lips mere centimeters apart. “Just tell me you’re certain,” he urged her softly.

“I am. I’m certain,” she whispered, and he could feel the warmth of her breath against his lips. “Doctor, I never want anything like that to happen again. I want to feel safe in my own head, and, Doctor,” she looked up at him with pleading eyes. For the first time since the Alii had released their hold, the Doctor saw Rose’s vulnerability, her fear of this invasion. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You’ll never lose me,” he assured her, wrapping her in his arms, every inch of her pressed against him, chest to chest, hips to hips, her legs tangled with his. He buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent to dispel his own demons.

“I did, though. I didn’t remember who you were, not really. I didn’t remember what you meant to me, and I had to figure it out all over again.” Tears once again roughened her voice, and the Doctor cursed his blind stupidity. Of course she was scared. She had lost her entire identity at the whim of beings she wouldn’t even have been able to see without him. She’d had her entire existence ripped from her, and she no longer felt entirely safe in her own head. “Please, Doctor.”

The soft entreaty in her voice sliced through the final strands of his resistance. He pulled back just enough to give him room to place his fingers against her temple. He rested his forehead against hers. Taking in a shuddering breath, he closed his eyes and reached out to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The translation I'm giving you is a weird mix of strict and loose. Wherever possible, I keep the translation exact, but there are some words and phrases that need to be a bit more idiomatic to keep the spirit of the Latin. 
> 
> Salvete: "Hello" (to multiple people)
> 
> Video hoc parvum oppidum esse. Dissensionem cum vos non habeo. Frumentum a vos ut nostros alere possim parare cupio. Vobis salutem pacemque redebo. Nobis vos tegente vostrum oppidum incrementum sciet: "I see this is a small down. I have no quarrel with you. I desire to get grain from you so that I can feed my men (Nostros literally means "our men" and is Roman slang for their soldiers). I will give you peace and health in return. With us protecting you, your town will know growth."
> 
> Eis quam stultissimis exstante, ad primam luce adsumus.: "Since they are as stupid as possible, we will be here until dawn"
> 
> Ei, noli putare eos stultos esse solos quod magnum forum aut pulrchra aedificationa non habere. Mehercule, Tam stultus es ut in frigidissimo Borea tunicula geraseris.: "Oi, don't think that they are stupid just because they don't have a large forum (town square/marketplace) or beautiful buildings. Jesus Christ ( lit. By Hercules), You are so stupid that you wear little skirts (lit. little tunics) in the coldest winter winds."
> 
> Quale morio facit? Glaciales columnae tuae vostraeque cum masturbetis suffricabuntur: "What kind of a moron does that? Your frozen knob will be rubbed-off when you wank."
> 
> Coge quem loquaris: "Think about whom you are speaking."
> 
> Audi, parva merda, scivi tuum avunculum, Gaium Marium. Bonus erat. Cum proximo tempo te vidi, tibi novas subligaculas donabam. Sic, tacete aut te intricabo: "Listen, you little shit, I knew your uncle, Gaius Marius. He was a good man. When I last saw you, I was changing your nappies. So shut up or I will embarrass you."


	6. Chapter 6

The entrance to her mind resembled nothing so much as a warzone. What should have been a fairly permeable barrier had been hastily barricaded with the mental equivalent of boarded up windows and blockades made of whatever was lying around. Walls had been hastily if sloppily constructed only to be smashed through, scattering debris far and wide. Rose’s mind had obviously realized the attack and tried to defend itself but, being untrained, was almost instantly overwhelmed. The Doctor stood just outside the largest hole, surveying the damage with a heavy heart. He forced himself not to bolt, to face the evidence of his failure. From just beyond the decrepit barricade, he could feel the warmth and vibrancy of Rose radiating into him.

“Rose, the last time I did this, I brought you into my mind; I didn’t enter yours. You should know, before we begin, that if there’s anything you don’t want me to see, you should imagine a door in front of it. I won’t look.” He said aloud. Rose nodded. He closed his eyes and took a breath, stealing himself against his eagerness to dip into the beckoning vitality. Before he could fully prepare, a hand seized his wrist and tugged him forward across the barrier.

Eyes shooting open, the Doctor found himself captivated by Rose’s serene expression. She watched him calmly while he took a moment to bask in her soothing presence. He’d expected to see an array of doors before him, but there were none. Just Rose, smiling shyly up at him.

“No doors? Rose, I know you want to prove you trust me, but you’re still entitled to your privacy.”

“I know I am. But I see no reason to tempt your curiosity by showing you what I’m keeping hidden. I sent the doors away. Besides, I need to focus on this if I’m going to learn how to protect myself, not just try to hold doors in front of things I’m not interested in thinking about at the moment.”

She smiled up at him, clearly proud of herself. She had every reason to be. The Doctor had never known a human capable of that level of control over her own mind. Maybe this was why the TARDIS had been so afraid of her being influenced by the Alii. “Rose, you’re fantastic. You shouldn’t be able to do that.”

Rose looked worried. “Is it because they were in my head?”

The Doctor shook his head, rubbing her arms reassuringly. “No, precious girl. It’s all you.” Giving into the temptation to touch her, he brushed his hand against her cheek. “You amaze me.” Rose blushed and ducked her head. “I should clean up the damage they did here, before doing anything else. You’ve sustained enough of a psychic trauma, that I shouldn’t stay here any longer than necessary.” The Doctor told himself that it wasn’t disappointment that flickered across her face.

The Doctor’s first act was to soothe away the broken walls. He calmed the part of her mind that had panicked and futilely attempted to protect itself, imbuing it with a sense of safety. Rose’s breath hitched as he worked.

“Can you feel that?” He hadn’t intended his voice to be so husky. He didn’t need Rose to know how intimate this act was for his people. He didn’t need to think about its intimacy, as it only served to fuel fantasies when his focus should be on helping Rose.

Rose bit her lip and nodded. “Yeah,” she murmured breathily. The Doctor swallowed thickly. That voice combined with being in her mind and stroking it gently was driving him to delicious distraction at an embarrassing speed.

“I’ll be done soon,” he told her and then, because he burned with the need to know if she was being affected the way he was, “I’m sorry if it hurts.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” she hastened to reassure him. “It, umm…” she ducked her head, her face flaming red. “It feels nice.”

The Doctor bit back an ecstatic grin. With no small amount of disappointment, the Doctor realized that Rose’s defenses had relaxed away, giving him a clean slate to work with. He gave Rose’s mind a final caress, unable to keep from letting a bit of desire flavor his touch. Rose shivered. A door appeared behind her. Rose gave a squeak of dismay, before banishing it again.

The Doctor itched with curiosity to know what she could have been thinking at that moment that she didn’t want him to know, but he respected her privacy so he simply turned to the perimeter of her mind, now  as pliable as it should be.  The Doctor started by wrapping her in a protective barrier of his own, careful to keep his hold loose, both so he wouldn’t scare her, and because he needed to keep some distance if he was to get through this without throwing her against a wall and having his wicked way with her.

Rose’s eyes fluttered shut. “I can feel you. You’re completely surrounding me.”

The Doctor nodded, his eyes glued to the curve of her neck, which was exposed to him as her head fell back. “That’s what we need for you to make. Watch how I make it.” The Doctor banished the barrier only to bring it back up, slower. Rose shivered again, but her eyes had locked on what he was doing, drawing it all in. With a frown of concentration, Rose put up her own, just outside of his so that they brushed against each other. The Doctor bit back a groan, but it escaped anyway. It took a moment for his lust-dulled senses to realize that it hadn’t come from him, but Rose. The door reappeared behind her, but Rose didn’t bother to expel it this time.

The Doctor showed her how to make her barrier rigid enough to protect her and flexible so that it wouldn’t shatter. She was a remarkably quick learner. Finally, the Doctor dispelled his own, leaving only Rose’s protection.

“The last thing to learn isn’t something you need to know.” The Doctor told her hesitantly. He brought it up with no small amount of trepidation, knowing he had no right to ask this of her and knowing that even mentioning it, with her curiosity, was the same as asking.

“What is it?”

“How to let someone in,” he said quietly.

Rose frowned in confusion. “But you’re already in.”

“I was in before you built the barrier. When I leave, I won’t be able to get back in unless you let me without ripping through your protection, and I would never do that. It would be as bad as anything the Alii did.” The Doctor looked everywhere but at her face.

“You could just not leave,” Rose said lightly. The Doctor didn’t respond. “Teach me,” she ordered softly. The Doctor’s gaze flew to hers; she was serious.

“Rose, I-“

“You said to ask again when I was myself. I’m myself, now.” Her urgency eroded his defenses.

“Rose, you-“

“Doctor, I want you with me.” The door behind Rose creaked as it opened a crack. Rose threw herself backwards and leaned against it, holding it closed, but she didn’t stop talking.   “I feel safe with you here.”

“Rose if you’ll-“ The Doctor seized Rose by her upper arms, forcing her to look him in the eye, desperately endeavoring to get a word in edgewise.

“Doctor, please don’t just leave me never to come back! And I swear, Doctor, this isn’t a remnant of Tyler, or a reaction to what they did to me,” Rose was becoming hysterical.

“Rose, I know, I-“ the Doctor tried impatiently to soothe but she rolled over his efforts.

“I’ve wanted this for ages! Well, maybe not this, exactly, but I don’t even know how long I’ve loved you-“ the door behind her burst open like the sun, bathing the Doctor in light and warmth. It threw Rose into the Doctor, whose arms instinctively wrapped around her.  Images blazed beyond the door, vivid moments shining from her memories. Rose stiffened nervously in his arms. The Doctor couldn’t tear his eyes away from the moments he saw. The first images struck him with the strength of immediacy: them snogging like there’s no tomorrow (because there might not be) in the square of the village, her comfort when she felt his mind engulf her protectively when they confronted the Alii, her joy at being held by him through the night on the jump seat of the TARDIS. With the images, the Doctor was bathed with Rose’s corresponding emotions, and the next things he saw stole his breath as they gleamed with as much love as anything he’d just seen. He reveled in her mind numbing relief at seeing him after he’d effectively ordered her death in Van Stratten’s bunker, the way her heart had constricted when he struggled to choose the Earth over her, the way their hands fit together on a busy London street after she’d seen her planet be destroyed.

The Doctor was awash with Rose’s love, love that stretched back nearly as far as he’d known her, love that had kindled as long ago as his own, love that was real. The Doctor turned his awestruck gaze down to the girl who held his now singing hearts.

“Rose, I-“ He tried, but still the words couldn’t come. He cursed his cowardice while his mouth blurted, “You kept all this behind a door?” Hiding emotions was so much more demanding than hiding memories.

Heart breaking for him to see, Rose nodded dejectedly. “Seemed safer,” she mumbled, a touch of bitterness creeping in.

“You amaze me,” he breathed, fully aware that he was repeating himself. A touch of hope lit deep in her eyes, and he did his best to fan the flames. “You astonish me. You constantly surprise me in the most delightful ways. You know me so well that you shouldn’t be able to love me, yet you do. And I know you so well that I can’t help but love you, so I do it with all I have.” Rose’s eyes now blazed. “I do love you, Rose. Everything I do is for the love of you. It keeps me awake nights on the rare nights I try to sleep. It colors every decision I make. I was broken when I found you, but you’re helping to put me back together, and I would do anything you asked of me.”

“Anything I asked of you?” Rose asked saucily. The Doctor nodded dumbly, struck mute by her sudden playfulness. “Let’s test that, shall we?” The Doctor swallowed thickly. “Kiss me.”

The Doctor surrendered his lips to her, giving her sweet, sipping kisses, never delving deeply, taking time to build the confidence that he had shattered. He nibbled on her tempting lower lip before sucking on it. A groan escaped her, and the Doctor chuckled darkly, releasing her.

“What else doth my lady wish of me?” he asked huskily.

Rose’s hand snaked down his torso, caressing and teasing on its way down. When her hand rested on his hardening cock, trapped by unforgiving denim, the Doctor’s head fell back, breath hissing between his teeth. Rose nipped at his exposed neck. Then she took a step back, denying him her touch.

“Teach me how to build a door into my mind, Doctor,” she ordered him calmly, as if unaffected by what she had just done.

The Doctor swallowed thickly, trying to reign in his wayward desire. “It’s not a door as much as a portal,” he managed to tell her through clenched teeth. “Imagine who you want to let in, and imagine a tunnel that they can walk through.”

“Why not a door?”

“Not as safe, is it? A door is always there, a weak point for others to batter down. But a tunnel that only exists between you and the person you want to let in, minimizes your vulnerability to others. And I want you safe.” Rose pondered it for a second, before nodding her acceptance.

The Doctor redirected her attention to where his own barriers surrounded hers, letting her see what the portal looked like from within, what it felt like to make it properly.

“What about the TARDIS?” Rose asked suddenly. “Do I need to let her in?”

“She’s never been in your head, not really,” the Doctor told her, ignoring her incredulous eyebrow. “She works on the surface, translating for you, but never dipping in.”

“I’ll still be able to talk to her?”

The Doctor felt his jaw hit the ground. “You talk to her? And she talks back?”

Rose ducked her head bashfully. “Kinda. Not like you do. But I can tell the difference between yes and no, and she helps me pick out clothes, or find you when you disappear to brood. Sometimes we watch telly together.”

The Doctor was stunned into silence. The most powerful machine in all of time and space watched telly with Rose? “You really are the most incredible person I’ve ever met,” he murmured reverently. “She shouldn’t have a problem. And I imagine that she’ll let you know if there’s anything you need to do,” he told her wonderingly.

“Can we talk without being in each other’s mind?” She asked suddenly, then bit her lip, glancing away.

“I don’t know. I knew you had more latent psychic ability than most humans in your time, but I didn’t think it was this strong. We’d have to do some testing.”

“Is that as much fun as it sounds?” she asked sarcastically.

“It could be,” he murmured, his voice like silk.

Rose’s eyes shot to his, rapidly darkening at what she saw there. “Then what are we waiting for?”

*

Rose whimpered softly at the feeling of the Doctor retreating from her mind, wanting to capture him inside her.

“We should do this somewhere more comfortable,” he told her, his voice thick with desire. “This could wear you out.”

Rose slid off the medical bed, her tongue peeking cheekily between her teeth. “Promises, promises,” she teased and followed him eagerly to his bedroom.

She settled on his bed, lying on her back, completely engulfed in his scent, and she bit her lip to hold in a moan. She was already wet from his kisses and his promises, and she couldn’t keep from rubbing her thighs together. The Doctor lay next to her propped on his side, gazing down at her with both a heat and a tenderness that made her ache.

“Relax,” he whispered.

“Can’t,” she whimpered. “Want you.”

“You’ll have me, precious girl,” he soothed, “But I want to see what you can do.” His voice turned wicked. “Don’t you want to play?”

Rose nodded with a desperate mewl. If he could get her this worked up without actually touching her yet, Rose wasn’t sure she would survive him. Something ghosted gently across the edge of her consciousness. Her eyes slammed closed as the sensation rolled through her.

“Can you feel that?” the Doctor whispered against her ear, making her shiver. Rose nodded, her teeth nibbling her bottom lip trying to regain some control. “Can you hear me?” he asked softly.

“Of course, I can, Doctor,” she answered irritably, her eyes snapping back open, and clashing with his. “There’s no need to patronize me.”

The Doctor’s mouth crashed over hers, and she surrendered with a happy sigh. “I would never patronize you,” he told her without releasing her lips.

Rose, ever quick on the uptake, didn’t bother being surprised that his testing was successful so quickly, and instead retorted, “You’d never patronize me?” She pulled a few choice moments from her memory and pushed them towards where she felt his presence just outside her mind.

The Doctor pulled back from her lips, chuckling softly. “ _Touché_ ,” he murmured before latching onto the underside of her jaw, quickly finding a sensitive spot that made her gasp and forget that she was trying to argue.

Rose let her head fall back with a moan. “Do that again,” she ordered without bothering to move her lips. She felt rather than heard his dark chuckle.

“As my lady wishes,” his mental voice was as dark as sin, just as affected by her as his real voice would be. Knowing she could touch him so deeply made her feel powerful, cherished. She rolled quickly out from beneath him, ignoring his whimper of loss. She stood by the side of the bed and grabbed the hem of her dress and whipped it over her head, standing before him in what was essentially a loincloth and breast band, the proper name of which she was already actively forgetting.

Prowling back over to him, Rose pushed his jumper up and off of him. The Doctor pulled her down to him in a searing kiss running his greedy hands across the skin she had exposed to him. Unwilling to be outdone, Rose let her fingers scout multiple paths across his chest. The Doctor unwound her breast band, the rough fabric scraping against her nipples. Rose drew in a shaky breath, her eyes fluttering closed. His large hands cupped her breasts, kneading them softly.

Rose retaliated by circling his nipples, the spirals getting progressively closer, but never touching them. Her name hissed out from between his teeth and his hands went limp, making her smile triumphantly. While his guard was down, Rose straddled him and ground down against his prominent erection. The Doctor’s face slackened, for a moment completely at peace. Rose repeated the action, drawing a groan from him. His hands slid down to grip her hips, helping guide her movements against him.

She leaned down to kiss him languorously, but the Doctor soon took control, his tongue invading her mouth with dark ferocity. His hips came up to meet hers, his straining cock giving her pressure where she needed it most. The unexpected friction against her clit made her elbows buckle. The Doctor seized the advantage and flipped her underneath him, grinding into her one last time before pulling the loincloth from her body.

He pulled away to divest himself of his remaining clothes.  The air of the room was chilly against Rose’s over-heated skin. She felt the Doctor’s presence against her mind, even as he sat at the edge of the bed, struggling with his boots. She drew closer to it and caught a fleeting impression of him disparaging the parentage of the man who invented shoelaces. She giggled aloud, crawling forward to drape herself around him from behind.

“Need a hand?” she asked saucily, sliding a hand down his stomach to the button of his jeans and flicking it open.

“Might need more than one,” the Doctor panted, relaxing into her embrace. Rose inched the zip down, reveling in the way the Doctor twitched beneath even this light touch. She encouraged him to lift his hips so she could slide off the denim. The thin cotton of his dark pants proved little barrier to her curious digits. She fingered him through the thin cloth, testing his length and weight in her hand. The Doctor let out a strangled moan and his head fell back on her shoulder. Rose ran a single fingernail up and down his length, scraping lightly across the head at the end of each upstroke.

 

The Doctor’s hands clenched helplessly into fists and his hips jerked, futilely seeking more contact. His breath was shallow and rough in her ears. His presence against her mind was pulsing with heat. “Rose.” Her name was whispered against her mind. The blatant need that accompanied her name made her nipples tighten. She slipped her hand beneath the cotton for skin-to-skin contact. The Doctor’s breath hissed between his teeth and he began a rolling rhythm against her hand. “Rose,” he murmured again in her mind. Then again when she squeezed him lightly. Soon her name became a chant tinged with need and love that she heard on the edges of her consciousness.

“Doctor,” she responded aloud, her lips tickling his ear. His eyes flew open.

“Rose,” he panted, “Not like this.”

Rose placed a kiss on the spot where his neck joined his shoulder, making him shudder and whimper, then she released him and returned to the center of the bed, waiting for him to join her. With extreme haste, the Doctor managed to remove his boots, socks, jeans, and pants. He stood next to the bed, looking down on her as she beckoned lazily.

‘”Rose,” he choked out, “are you sure?” Rose gave him a look of mingled amusement and resignation.

“I was wondering how far we could get before you would ask that,” she commented drily. Lips pursed in concentration, Rose bombarded him with a series of images of what she would like him to do to her and what she would like to do to him.  His cock twitched against his belly, and Rose smiled predatorily. “Come here, Doctor,” she ordered calmly.

Wordlessly, he obeyed. Crawling over her body, the Doctor dropped kisses sporadically, cataloguing her responses. Just below the kneecap earned him little more than a lazy smile. The inside of the thigh elicited a gasp. Rose held her breath when he parted her folds for a brief taste, taking care to just glance her clit. A moan answered this action, and the Doctor smiled smugly.  Rose couldn’t find it in her to try to take him down a notch. Continuing forward, the Doctor pressed a brief kiss to her navel before latching onto a breast. He sucked, hard, without any warning, and a breathy scream rewarded his efforts.

Chuckling darkly, the Doctor soothed her throbbing nipple with a gentle finger. Rose latched her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down in a bruising kiss. She could taste herself on him and whimpered with need.

“Now, Doctor, please,” Rose whimpered in her head, knowing he could hear her. The Doctor fumbled a little in his haste to align himself with her. He paused for a moment, before Rose’s growled, “Now,” spurred him into action. In one long thrust, he entered her. His groan of contentment mingled with Rose’s soft sigh.  He paused again, letting Rose become accustomed to his girth. Ever impatient, Rose flexed her hands against the Doctor’s bum, urging him to action.

The Doctor pulled almost all the way out before plunging back him, adding a little twist at the end to hit Rose just-

“There!” she cried in his mind. “Do that again,” she ordered against his lips before stealing them in a messy, glorious kiss. The Doctor did as he was told, and Rose hands clenched against his bum, scratching him. His hips involuntarily jerked against hers, driving him harder against that spot. Rose whimpered, her muscles clenching desperately around him.

He withdrew once more and began a steady rhythm. Rose knew her blood was boiling; it was the only explanation for the tingling heat that suffused her body.

“Rose, let me in,” the Doctor begged against her mind. Immediately, Rose sent him that tunnel, connecting their minds. She was in his as much as he was in hers, and every sensations blended together into need and heat and yes and friction and wet all smothered with love you, love you, _love you_.

“Mine,” he whimpered when she raised her hips into his thrusts, clenching around him tighter.

“Yours,” Rose breathed. His thumb found her clit, circling it roughly, causing the desperately delicious tension to tighten in Rose, ripping sounds from her throat that the Doctor told her were only for him, now, just like her.

“Yours,” she agreed again, “More,” she demanded breathlessly. The Doctor swept through her mind, stimulating her ability to feel pleasure, making his every movement light up her mind. Need switched suddenly into satiation, and Rose screamed as the tension fled her body in wracking spasms.

The world went white, almost drowning out the Doctor’s shout of completion. Rose forced her eyes open to see the look of complete abandon on his face. It snatched what little breath she had left. His cold seed pulsed into her, not letting her down from her own orgasm. Finally, he collapsed on top of her. Rose wrapped her limbs around him, relishing his weight.

“That’s mine,” she declared sleepily. “No one else gets to see that. It and you are mine.”

“There’s never been any doubt about that,” the Doctor murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He rolled them so that she was resting sprawled atop him.

“I love you, Rose Tyler,” he murmured, clutching her to him tightly.

“That’s me,” she assured him softly. “And Rose Tyler loves you.” She had never been more comfortable than she was in that moment, entirely entangled with the Doctor’s limbs. “And I much prefer being wrapped up like this to cotton wool,” she informed her, her head resting on his chest, soothed by his double heartsbeat.

The Doctor chuckled. “You shouldn’t knock it until you try it. I’m pretty sure I could make it worth your while,“ he murmured.

“You think you’re so impressive,” Rose mocked.

“Not impressive, just inspired.”

Rose’s breath caught in her throat at the raw honesty that pulsed down their still open link.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

“For what?”

“For saving me from being Tyler for the rest of my life. I would have missed this. I would have missed you.”

“I never would’ve left you.”

“I know. But I wouldn’t remember you.” She snuggled deeper into his embrace, too content to dwell too fully on such dark thoughts. “But you know what? I’d still love you.” She tilted her head up to look into his piercing blue eyes, which seemed to bur with the intensity of his joy every time she said those words. “I’ll always love you, Doctor. Even if I’m a runt. Forever.”

The Doctor caught her lips with his as if trying to capture her words lest they fly away. “You weren’t a runt. You were, you _are,_ so much more than them,” he told her, the enormity of his emotions nearly choking him.  “And I’ll always love you, Rose Tyler. Forever.”


End file.
